Cotton
by kabukimono
Summary: A collection of mostly fluffy, silly, light-hearted one-shots. Snippets in time for our heroes between the fighting and the heartache. Will eventually contain spoilers for the entire game, so proceed with caution!
1. Warm Woolen Mittens

Contains spoilers for Ringabel's past

* * *

The Lees are very nice people.

Ringabel had known this for years, of course. He owed the family a greater debt than he could ever begin to repay, but they had never even held him to it, in this world or the last. All he could do was try to be a worthy… a worthy *_son_*, but he felt like anything but, considering how he lounged around Eternia Central Command waiting for orders or bothering Edea and his doppleganger. He had more than he deserved, and he felt like a bum. An adorable bum, but a bum all the same.

The winter months had seen Mahzer catch a cold, and as a precaution, she'd been placed back into the Central Healing Tower where she could be watched closely. Besides, the tower tended to be kept warmer than the cold stone of Central Command.

"Go and spend some time with her," Edea had asked him, just a few weeks after he himself had returned. "Father and I will be busy all day today. She'd like to see you. Get to know you!"

He feels decidedly less sure about that. Yes, Mahzer was a wonderful woman. When he'd been a child, she had been the mother he had never had, warm and caring and kind, even though she'd been so ill. He'd always felt safe in her company.

Edea didn't need to ask him twice. But as Ringabel hovers in the doorway of Mazher's room, he suddenly feels like fleeing.

"Ah… Lady Marshal," he calls into the room quietly, rapping at the door frame.

She turns to see who has visited her, and when she sees him, she smiles. "Oh, it's you, Ringabel. It's lovely to see you."

Her voice fills him with warmth and he steps into the room almost without thought. She looks well, he thinks, and is bundled up nicely against the chill that permeates the walls, sitting comfortably in an armchair near the window, a bundle of yarn on her lap. Still, his fingers itch to adjust the quilts around her shoulders as she smiles at him.

"You knew it was me," he says lamely instead, somewhat surprised. He and Alternis had begun to style their hair somewhat differently, but they were identical after all. Sometimes, when he was feeling like being an asshole, he would rummage through Alternis' wardrobe and style his hair as closely to the other's as possible.

"Of course. What mother doesn't know her children?"

Just like that, he feels a lump build in his throat and he suddenly doesn't know what to do with his hands, wringing them in front of him until he stiffly lowers himself into another chair beside her. "Y-you're right, of course. I apologise for—"

"You've nothing to apologise for," Mahzer interrupts him. "It's just good to see you. I was beginning to worry I had somehow frightened you away."

He had been scared, but it hadn't been her fault. Just his. "Not at all, my lady." He wishes he could say more, explain why he's been avoiding her and Braev both, but he can't. Mahzer's gaze is kind, not judgmental, and he falls into an awkward silence instead.

Edea had told him to visit, but now that he's here, he doesn't know what to talk about. Surely she gets reports on what's happening from Alternis and Braev. She probably knows more about the going-ons in Central Command than he does, all things considered. He tries to resist the urge to whine under his breath, kicking his feet lightly like he had when he was a child. Her company is good enough, but is his?

"Would you like to help me?" She asks, holding up the knitting in her lap. It's a nice shade of blue, clear and bright, like her eyes. Like Edea's eyes.

"I don't know how to knit." Ringabel is ready to apologize again when she plops the ball of yarn in his lap, along with her two knitting needles. She somehow finds two more in her basket.

"You're never too old to learn," Mahzer declares, and spends the next hour teaching him how to knit, how to cast on his stitches and keep them neat and orderly. He'd always fancied himself dexterous and good with his hands, but this is a different skill altogether.

"What do you want to make?" She asks him once he's gotten the basics down and his stiches look at least semi-decent. Like a child's instead of a toddler's.

"A… scarf." He decides. It's all he has the skill to do. She sets him on it before turning to her own project with pink wool and they work quietly together.

By the time his scarf is long enough to actually be called a scarf, the sun has begun to set over the peaks of Eternia's mountains. Mahzer clucks her tongue, as they both know from years of long experience that Eternia gets even colder at night. She turns to him, frowning.

"You should leave before it gets too late," she tells him, and helps him block off the stitch so that his work isn't undone.

"I should. Thank you kindly for the lesson, ma'am." He stands and stretches, and moves to leave, but not before wrapping the blue scarf securely around her shoulders and kissing her on the forehead.

She smiles at him, and wraps the pink scarf around his shoulders in return. It's much more prettier than his, longer and more uniform, and with a lovely pattern knitted into it. Very fashionaabluh. He flushes.

"And you should keep warm," she reminds him, with a kiss to the cheek.

He feels like he's 12 years old again, peering up at her through long, unruly hair and wondering how any mother could be so kind and beautiful. "I—I… You as well, Mother. Mahzer." He corrects himself, his voice cracking.

But her face lights up with happiness and his embarrassment is worth it. "Please take care, Ringabel."

He ducks his face down into his scarf as he leaves before the nurses can announce that visiting hours are over for the night. It's very warm.


	2. Blue Satin Sashes

"Huh? Tiz, what are you doing?" Edea plops herself down into the chair beside him, leaning on her elbows so she can watch as he… sews?

"Patching up this hole," he replies absently, eyes focused on the needle. "They've just been worn thin." And he's been so busy lately that he hadn't really had a chance to fix it. Now that they've decided they're going to rest for a couple of weeks, he needs something to occupy his thoughts. Darning is just the thing, and they tend to put a lot of holes in their clothing, all things considered. It's probably a little creepy to rifle through his friends' laundry, and he's too shy to ask, so his socks have come first. It's just as well. His needlework has grown sloppy over the past few months and he needs the practice before moving beyond his own belongings..

"But… why?" She stares at him, chin in hand, eyes wide. "Can't you just throw them out and buy new ones?"

He blushes, ducking his head down and trying to finish up just a few more stitches…! "That's not very practical."

"Oh come on! All we have to do is beat up a few Alraunes and we'll have *_more_* than enough to buy you all the socks you could ever want."

"That's still not practical," he insists. Clothes shouldn't be disposal! They were supposed to be cared for and last a while. Years, even.

"That's it," she declares, but she is at least kind enough until he'd tied off the knot and put down the needle before he stabs himself, jumping slightly at her exclamation. "We're going _shopping_!"

"Do we have to?"

But in the end, he folds. Agnès comes too, because Edea declares that leggings are "totally in" this season, and that the Vestal needs something under her dress for winter.

"I really do not think this is necessary," Agnès says quietly as Edea drags her through the plaza, arms looped together.

"Don't be silly, Agnès." Ringabel insists, pushing the pair of sunglasses he'd picked up at some stall down his nose so he can really look at her, though he can't resist posing just slightly. "It will do you some good to wear some colour, don't you think, Edea? Some nice blues or yellows, perhaps."

"Mmhmm, exactly! And Tiz gets to have some color too." She grins at the shepherd.

"There's nothing wrong with my clothes," he attempts to protest, but Ringabel's arm has wrapped tightly around his shoulder and he suddenly feels like he and Agnès are being herded. Like sheep.

"They're soooo boring," Edea explains, pointing out some of the clothes in the shop windows. Tiz swallows; those are awfully… flashy. Were those… sequins?

As Edea tugs Agnès into a very frilly, very pink shop, Ringabel leads Tiz a few doors further down. "Don't worry," the older man says once Edea is out of earshot. "Sequins are most certainly not in style right now."

What was supposedly in style was *_frills_*, Tiz learns quite soon. Frills down the front of his shirt, at the hem, at the cuffs… they *_itch_*. He itches.

"It's not a frill," Ringabel insists as he adjusts the front of the shirt the younger boy was trying on as though he were his *_mother_*. It's embarrassing… "It's a cravat," he clarifies. " Very fashionaaabluh right now. You look stylish."

"It's just going to get in the way," Tiz mumbles, tugging at it. It feels more like he's wearing a bib, not clothing.

"Well, of course it will. But remember, one must suffer for fashion." Ringabel winks as he stands back and turns Tiz around so that they can both look in the mirror of the tiny dressing room they were standing in..

Tiz observes himself in the mirror, thinking that he hasn't seen this much lace since his mother's favorite tablecloth for special occasions. At least the shade of blue that Ringabel had picked out for the jacket is nice. He doesn't really know or care about it complimenting his eyes, but it reminds him of the deep blue of Agnès's pendant.

"I don't think it's me," he says uncertainly. His hair, his face, his posture's too plain for something like this. Why can't he just buy something normal?

Ringabel has been watching him carefully in the mirror. "I insist, Tiz. Perhaps the change in look will woo even Agnès?"

Now he feels hot under all the layers of lace and frills, and the red of his cheeks doesn't match the blue of the outfit at all. "Get me out of this Ringabel, or I'm going to tell Edea what happened to the last of her chocolate covered strawberries that mysteriously disappeared last week."

Ringabel's fingers can't move fast enough.

Agnès twirls a little despite herself, giggling as the white skirt twirls around with her. It was somewhat gaudy, to be sure, but the twirl is nice, not unlike her usual dress, but more… free. Light. It reminds her of the vestal garb.

"It looks good on you!" Edea cheers from the bench she was sitting on, having waited for Agnès outside the dressing room. They were really too small for two people, though she'd slipped in to help her lace up the back. "Tiz will love it."

Agnès stops twirling, and clasps her hands over her chest. The bright lights of the dressing room area of the store are suddenly very warm. "Tiz?"

Edea stands to tug at fabric at the other girl's waist and hips, as though measuring. "Yeah, Tiz. You remember him, right…? Nice guy, fluffy hair, always has this smile on his face when he talks to you?"

Agnès waits patiently Edea for to finish, used to being assisted with her clothing, and knowing from experience how crucial it was for them to fit just right. "I know who Tiz is." She says defensively as Edea continues to prod, now retying the blue satin sash. "But there's no reason for him to like this dress. I'm the one wearing it, not he." It was so delicate; she doubts it could fit his broad shoulders.

"It's because you're the one wearing it that Tiz will like it, Agnès." Edea insists, and Agnès wishes they were surrounded by mirrors so that she could hide her face.

"That is simply…" Not unacceptable?

Edea titters and leans back to look, before prancing back over to the bench with its pile of clothes waiting. "Well, if you're done with this one, there's a few more that we have waiting!" She holds up two hangers, each bearing dresses in various shades of white. There was more than one shade?!

"More? Edea, just how long do you think we have?" They'd persuaded Airy to stay on the ship, promising they would only duck into Florem for a few moments to pick up supplies. Normally, Agnès enjoys the company of the cryst-fairy, but she's needed to get away and rest.

The blonde girl shrugs. "We'll be fine. What's she gonna do, come looking?"

Airy does in fact come looking after several hours, and its her voice that finally draws Edea and Agnès out of the store. Even the fashion conscious Ringabel has his limits, and he and Tiz wait patiently outside on a bench for the two ladies as they listen to the fairy rant.

"Oh, Agnès…" Tiz breathes as he catches sight of her in the white dress from earlier. "You look great." He stands to take a shopping bag from her, smiling all the while. Agnès giggles, recalling Edea's words from earlier.

"I told her that he would like it," Edea stage-whispers to Ringabel as the older man comes over to dutifully retrieve the numerous bags she's hauled out.

"I tried to insist that he wear something special to catch her eye, but he was being difficult," Ringabel pouts in return. At least Tiz had allowed Ringabel to buy something with some color to it, a reasonable looking deep blue shirt that looks almost black. The two brunettes make a stunning pair.

"Hello?" Airy says loudly, circling around them all. "Weren't you going to invite me? We have things we need to do! There's no time for shopping trips!"

"Forgive-" Agnès says immediately, always the one to apologise first.

"Oh come on, Airy." Edea interrupts before Agnès can get too far. "We're running out of clothes! Tiz was *_darning his socks_*. That's pretty sad."

"Excuse m-"

"Look, your stockings could use some work too, right? They… they're all ripped up!"

"My stock-"

"So we'll pick up some ribbon and let Ringabel get to work!"

"Wait, why am I-"

Edea just laughs over her friend's protests and loops her arms into those of Ringabel and Agnès, effectively cutting off any more conversation as the man blushes and Agnès squeaks. She drags them through Florem now, heading off toward another shop, Airy trailing behind.


	3. Helping Hands

**Spoiler through Chapter 3**

* * *

Agnès is so used to sleeping peacefully, curled up on the little cot in her room, her hair carefully braided by one of the acolytes before they all retire to bed, that she's at a bit of loss now.

She has so much of it, four hands are practically a requirement to do anything beyond the basic brushing and awkward ponytails, and she finds herself frustrated to the point of tears the first time she wakes up with her hair in complete tangles and sticking up every which way when the ponytail holder finally snaps in the middle of her restless sleep.

Ringabel, fashion minded and ever conscious of his companions' hair, is the one to notice first.

"Do you need a hand?" He asks the quiet Vestal as she plucks tiredly at a fistful of tangled, brunette hair with her brush.

"No, I can do this," she insists, but as another snaggle catches and she flinches, he deftly takes the brush from her anyway.

"I'll be gentle," he promises, and his is certainly a more careful and methodical hand than her own, separating her long locks into sections before slowly combing out the tangles. She tenses for a few moments, expecting him to make some lewd comment, but some reason, either because he's tired or because he's concentrating, he doesn't. Instead, the time passes by quickly, and she's surprised when he announces that he's done. She had just started to daydream, thinking of the crystals, the temple, the acolytes that would usually help her with this…

"That's it?" She asks over her shoulder, taking the brush back from him.

"That's it, my lady." He winks, and that lecherous man has come back. "I would be more than happy to brush your hair again, of course. And if you need some assistance in keeping it tame at night, I would be glad—"

"Unacceptable!" She cuts him off with a flush and glare.

He finishes his sentence with a smile. "-to help you braid your hair back."

Oh. Agnès' flush deepens. "I… thank you for the offer, but I will be fine."

She will just need to get a stronger ponytail holder.

That next one lasts for about a month, but in the aftermath of Olivia's death and the painful, awkward trip to Eisenberg that follows, Agnès' sleep and hands are so restless that it snaps one night as she prepares for bed, leaving a tiny welt on her wrist.

She stares at it.

"Huh?" Edea asks from across the room as she tugs her nightshirt down over her tummy. She'd heard the snapping. "You okay, Agnès?"

"I'm fine. No need to concern yourself," Agnès replies automatically. Defensively. She's gotten used enough to handling her hair by herself, and doesn't need help! But as she turns away to rummage through her little pack for a ribbon, perhaps, she hears the other girl make her way over anyway.

"Oh, did your hair band snap? I've got an extra."

"That' quite alright, I—"

Edea ignores her, and Agnès quiets at the feeling of the other girl's hand running through her scalp. "Just for tonight? It's getting late."

That, at least, is true. "Very well…" Agnès agrees, though she knows she can't used to this. She really cannot get used to sitting in front of Edea as the other girl runs a brush gently through her hair, and begins to braid it down.

"Your hair is so nice and lovely, I wish I could have grown out mine like this," Edea says quietly as she makes sure to get the tangles at the nape of the vestal's neck.

"It has taken a long time," Agnès admits. Her hair is the one vanity she's afforded herself.

"My father took years to grow his out as well, I've heard," Edea replies, more to herself. "I think yours might still be a little longer…"

Though Agnès is somewhat curious at the idea of a man with hair as long as her own, the mention of Edea's father, *Grand Marshal of the Duchy of Eternia* just sours her mood, and she clenches her hands in the fabric of her nightgown. Edea too, seems to realize that she's brought up a sore subject, and her hands quicken their pace as though she's eager to get this over with.

Agnès is about to ask her to leave when she recognizes the motions of her hair being braided. "What are you…"

"Braids are more efficient for long hair than ponytails if you're trying to keep it neat," Edea replies, giggling. "That's what I was always taught." And maybe she'd learned how to braid hair by practicing on her father and master's longer locks.

And maybe she can't help but put a few flourishes into the braid, starting from the top and gradually adding more hair as she works her way down. Agnès just has so much hair, she thinks, as she finally reaches the girl's midback, and she has to move back to finish with Agnès leaning slightly forward. So jealous of it, nice and long and thick and sooo pretty.

Edea ties it off with an extra ribbon.

"There!" She declares. The Vestal pulls her hair over her shoulder to touch the braid, and she notices how tight and neat it is, unlike any of the braids she'd had put in her hair before.

"Thank you." Agnès says, still running her fingers over it.

"Uh-huh!" Edea smiles at her, a little cautiously, as she pulls her own mane of hair up into a loose bun for sleeping purposes. Otherwise she's liable to get it into her mouth. "I'll braid your hair any time you need it."

"I will… keep that in mind." The help is appreciated, but Agnès reminds herself again that she can't keep this girl's company very much longer. Still, she carefully returns the smile as the two finish up getting ready for bed.

The braid is so tight that it holds throughout the night, even with the ribbon slips off at some point, and Agnès finds that in the morning all she needs to do is unweave it. A brush runs easily through from top to bottom, and Edea next uses the ribbon to make a high ponytail - the better to keep it off her neck in this humid weather.

Still wary of Edea, Agnès doesn't allow her to assist anymore. Once they reach Hartschild, she finds a full package of military grade hair ties, and keeps at least one on her person at all times.

Of course, once the Fire Crystal is awakened, Edea is the one who loops Agnès' hair up into a bun to help with the sweltering heat of the magma they cross.

Tiz finds her resting in her room later that day as Edea and Ringabel stay up late eating snacks and chatting with Egil. Agnès had excused herself to bed early, but he doubts she's really asleep. And he's right.

"Are you okay?" He asks as he carefully closes the door behind him, so that they could have some privacy.

"I'm fine," she insists, running her hands through her hair now that it's been taken down out of the bun.

"Here, why don't I help?" He picks up the brush from the dresser before she can reply, and he sits behind her on the bed. She waits patiently for him to begin, hands in her lap.

Unlike Edea and Ringabel, Tiz doesn't have that much experience with brushing hair and his strokes are not as graceful or gentle as he starts from the bottom and begins to work his way up.

Agnès smiles anyway, even when the brush snags on a tangle or two. He works just as carefully as the others, but long, silky straight human hair is different from the wool on a sheep. Had he ever brushed sheep's wool? She giggles at the thought.

Tiz pauses. "Sorry," he says, an embarrassed laugh in his voice. "I'm really not very good at this."

"Oh no," Agnès says, shaking her head though she knows she shouldn't, not if someone's brushing it. She needs to keep still, after all. "You're fine, Tiz. I was just thinking to myself." She presses her hands to her mouth so that he doesn't get interrupted by her again.

The two of them fall silent now as Tiz continues, brushing out small sections of hair one at a time. Though he's not the most gentle, he's the most thorough, continuing even when it seems to be completely untangled, and Agnès finds her eyes falling closed as she counts out the brush strokes from top to bottom. 100… 101…

Once he seems to be finished, he pauses, eyes falling to the hair tie sitting beside them. He had seen Agnès with her hair in a braid in the early morning before. Perhaps he could try to braid it himself?

He's just gathered up three sections of hair when Agnès shifts slightly and nearly falls right over. Wrapping his arms around her shoulders from behind, he opens his mouth to ask her if she's all right and…

Agnès has fallen into a light doze, lulled by the gentle caresses to her scalp and down her hair. He flushes hotly for a moment before he realizes, and carefully moves her onto the bed a little more properly - he can't let her sleep sitting up, that'll be bad for her neck.

"Hmm?" She whines softly under her breath when he tucks her into the bed.

"Goodnight, Agnès." He replies, and when she rolls slightly away from him so that she can curl up on her side, he leans over and… picks up her hair again, running the brush through it one more time before braiding it- as though he were braiding a length of rope - and tucking it over her shoulder, out of the way of her shifting form. Then, it's to tuck Agnès herself into bed, making sure the blankets are snug around her form, and he dims the lights as he leaves.

In her sleep, Agnès clutches the braid in her hands and smiles.


	4. Snowflakes

**SPOILERS for Ringabel's past and ch 5+**

In response to a prompt requesting Alternis and Ringabel as children with Edea and playing in snow in Eternia.

AU: Alternis and Ringabel are approx 10/11 here. Edea's about 5/6. IDK. Working hard and fast with ages.

* * *

In Edea's opinion, boys are weird.

Maybe it's just these boys, these quiet identical twins that her father brings home one day, their pale blond hair messy and their gray eyes wide, but they still make her think boys are weird.

"Be nice to them," Braev tells her, hoisting her up into his arms when she goes to him, the boys standing there awkwardly watching, holding hands. "They're your big brothers now. They'll protect you."

Their names are Alternis and Ringabel.

Alternis is very quiet and keeps to himself, curling over the paper and pencils that Mahzer has given them. He's the younger of the two, or so she's told, and his hair is a touch longer. Edea sits him down in front of her and brushes out his long locks and puts beautiful pink bows in them. He never complains - never really says anything, just vocalizations that make him sound like a puppy (in her opinion) - and smiles when she shows him the mirror.

Ringabel is also very quiet, but he hums to break the silence when he thinks no one else is around. He likes to curl up with books and Edea sits with him other day after school has let out to read her favorite stories loudly to him. He's still learning, after all. He's the more cuddly of the two, and she falls asleep on his lap more than once, waking only when her father is carrying the both of them to bed, one child in each of his strong arms.

One night, Edea clutches herself to Ringabel and whines and whines until her father agrees to tuck her in with her brothers. Ringabel sleepily clutches back and whines as well.

"Father," she mumbles quietly a few moments later as she's tucked in between a sleeping Alternis and a Ringabel who is quickly falling back asleep. "I want to protect them both."

She's going to grow up to be a Knight, they all will, and they'll protect each other.

"Protect each other," she says as she makes the two of them pinky promise the next day once they wake up. Alternis is still only half-dressed, and Ringabel is still only half-dressed with an adorable case of bedhead, but they obediently hook pinkies with her - and each other - and nod.

She'll protect them forever and ever, and they'll protect her too. Though when snowball fights are involved, all bets are off.

It's the first real snow of the winter season, and Alternis and Ringabel crowd at one of the windows and watch the snowfall for hours, fascinated. Snow never stuck in Florem.

"Today we are going outside to play," Edea tells them in her usual bossy way as her mother dresses her warmly in layer upon layer of coats.

Of course, her mother makes sure to dress the boys very warmly in layers as well, and gives them both kisses on the forehead. Being boys, they flush hotly and smooth their hair back over their forehead, waving to her as they follow Edea out into the snow.

"We're gonna build a snow fort each and then we... have a fight!" Edea informs them proudly, already pushing the waist-deep snow into a pile. And then after, she thinks , they could maybe build some snowmen. Two big ones and three little ones. Or make some snow angels, though she doesn't know if the boys can do that, watching them awkwardly push snow into piles, their movements stiff with their overly padded limbs.

When Ringabel slips and falls, he flails on his back like some giant tortoise and Alternis laughs, actually laughs. Both his twin and his little sister stare at him with wide eyes and after a moment he stops. His cheeks, already flushed with cold, flush even deeper with embarrassment and he ducks down behind the modest wall he and his brother have built up.

"Oh no," Edea says, bringing her mittens up to her face. "Ally, you can't stop now!" His laugh had been a little rough, his voice was so unused which made it quiet, but it was so nice. She likes it.

Ringabel scrambles up off the snow and he tries to reach his brother. Nearly as quiet as the younger boy, he makes scarcely a peep as he shuffles behind the wall and - positively squeaks when he receives a handful of snow to the face.

His eyes widen again, his lip pouting out as he sits back in the snow. Edea comes to his rescue, swooping in with a snowball of her own right into Alternis' face when the blond boy peeks out from behind his fort.

"Snowball fight!" Edea screams, and though she ends up having to teach them both how to make proper snowballs - to gather up the snow and pack it in tight, make sure there are no rocks and twigs, how slightly wet snow worked best, and how to really throw the ball toward a target - they spend the rest of the afternoon covering each other in snow. Finally Edea manages to toss Alternis right into a pile of snow larger than them all and the boy flails for a few moments before he begins *_wailing_*, tears streaming down his face in his panic. He's stuck.

Uh-oh. With his brother at one arm and Edea on the other, he's pulled out successfully, just as Braev comes out to fetch them, drawn by the darkening sky and the cries of a child in distress.

"I think that's enough for one day," he says, his smile obscured by his beard as he surveys all three wet, shivering children. Edea latches onto one leg, Alternis onto the other, and Ringabel trails shyly behind as Braev carefully makes his way back into the fortress, pausing only to scoop up his third child into his arms before he crosses the threshold.

Inside, Mahzer is waiting beside a fire with cups of a delicious smelling drink, and she fusses over them all as Braev and their visiting uncle carefully unwrap them from the layers, now substantially more heavy now that the snow has melted.

"Mother," Edea says, crawling into her mother's lap with cold hands and a cold nose. Mahzer kisses that nose to warm it. "We had lots of fun, and Ally *_laughed_*." She seems very proud of that fact, and giggles when her foster brother buries his face deeper into Braev's shoulder, whining with red cheeks. He'd cried too, but he cried a lot, when he didn't think Edea would notice. She knows not to talk about it.

"Now, Edea," Mahzer says gently, holding her daughter's hands in her own until they warm. "Don't tease him." Alternis is the more sensitive of the two twins, after all.

"I know, I know!" Edea climbs off her mother once her hands are warm again, and instead approaches her uncle, little hands grasping at the sword ever present at his hip. Kamiizumi picks her up and places her on his legs before she can actually unsheathe it, allowing her to take a sip of his tea instead before handing her a mug of cocoa from her mother. "You're gonna teach me to protect them, right Master? You can teach them too, I guess." She beams.

"Of course. I look forward to it."

Ringabel claims Mazher's now-empty lap, curling slightly into her and letting his eyes slip shut, and the six Eternians - three adults, three children - share some quiet around the fireside. Before long, Mahzer notices that the young boy in her lap has fallen asleep, tired out from the fighting and the cold. Alternis is snoozing quietly against Braev's shoulder, trying valiantly to stay awake, and Edea is snoring peacefully in her uncle's lap, her cocoa drained completely.

It's been a good day.


	5. A Reason to Exist

**MAJOR SPOILERS FOR CHAPTER 4. Descriptions of gore and death.**

**The Dark Knight asterisk battle from the holder's perspective.**

* * *

It hurt.

Everything hurt. His chest, which had been aching for months when he thought about **_her_**, was on fire, pain tearing through him with each new breath. His muscles were beyond fatigued, and it was only pure adrenaline and rage that were holding him up, pure will that was keeping his hand wrapped around his sword. The thick taste of blood was in his mouth and he coughed wetly against the inner walls of his helmet as he fought for breath.

And yet, he had never felt stronger. Though darkness pulsed at the edge of his vision, his sight was keen as ever as he kept his eyes on the enemy, the group of four that contained that vile witch, the hapless bumpkin, the odd and misplaced man, and **_her_**. Edea Lee, the love of his life and the light in an otherwise bleak existence. A light that he remained focused on, even now.

Her latest hit had gone through an open spot in his armor and pierced his side; he could feel blood trickling down his hip and leg. Despite himself, he smiled. Good girl. She had always been strong, always been one to notice an enemy's weakness. Another movement and his vision went black for the briefest of moments.

Alternis had tried to reason with her for months and would do so even now, but for that moment, reason fled his brain just as surely as blood left his body. He always knew he would die in service of the Lees, and had never expected it would be at her hands. But so be it. He just - a little longer - if he could -

"Edea… I had thought that once I had proven myself, I could take you as my bride." He barely knew what he was saying, but if she would hear him out, he could die a happy man.

"Now's not the time for such rubbish, Alternis!" was her reply, and though deep down he knew she was right, that he had planned for years to propose to her when they were older, perhaps when she was Grand Marshal, and peace had been achieved throughout all of Luxendarc, her words stung harsher than any wound.

"Rubbish?" he repeated, aghast, and he came crashing back to reality. His wounds ached, his chest heaved with fresh pain, the wound in his side felt like it had been dipped in poison. He let out a wordless, infuriated scream and focused on that pain, letting it fuel him. Perhaps her foolish actions had caused the complete destruction of the Lord Marshal's ideals, but with his dying breaths, he swore to show her just how **_foolish_ **she had been.

As a Dark Knight, he was at his strongest when he was hurt. As he stood there dying, he would be unstoppable.


	6. To Keep You Warm

Tumblr prompt: Edea/Ringabel, Legs. Spoilers for Ch 2/Red Mage sidequest.

* * *

Was there a man whose eyes wouldn't be drawn to Edea Lee's lovely form? Ringabel took delight in it, though he was, of course, careful not to be seen admiring her, even from a distance. But on the days when she wore the more revealing asterisk costumes, he would hang back and watch her movements. His memory might have been gone, but he still fancied himself an artist, and it was with an artist's eye - _really_ \- that he trailed the motions of her arms, toned from years of military training and swordfighting, watching the way her muscles flexed. His gaze would linger on the stances she would take with different weapons, watch her hands carefully for how she gripped weapons. He could tell at a glance how she was feeling from the way she stood, or slouched, or stretched, and when she might need a potion or a healing spell.

But sometimes what really drew his attention were Edea's hips and of course, her legs. They had been walking quite a long distance, and though she usually kept her legs covered, her form could be seen under her leggings. He'd just about fainted the first time Edea changed into the Spellfencer's costume, revealing pale skin just barely hidden by sheer cloth.

"I can see you watching," Edea snapped at him, before she changed back, her face red.

"You looked lovely, Edea," he replied cheerfully, mentally filing away how toned her thighs were, and how they tapered down to strong knees, shapely calves, surprisingly delicate feet. Ah, if only he were so lucky as to be stepped -

"And I can see you thinking!" She had apparently stomped over while he'd been lost in his daydreams and now stood dangerously close. Ringabel leaned back away from her, feeling heat spread across his cheeks and up his ears, one of which she tugged viciously. "Don't get any bright ideas in that empty head of yours."

"Of course not, my dear. That would be ungentlemanly." He waited until she had turned her back to him to rub at his ear, his eyes drifting once more to her legs as she stomped away.

Later, he might open the pages of a journal that he had tucked away in his belongings, more casual and nondescript than the tattered one he kept on his person at all times, that kept his sketches and scrawls while he attempted to see if muscle memory and what he hoped were years of practice could compensate for a complete and total loss of any artistic training.

With all that in mind, he should have been thrilled to see the woman don the Bravo Bikini, especially as she was doing it willingly, and of her own idea, but the sight of her legs, bare for all to see, made him uneasy.

"Perhaps a pair of leggings would go well with it," he suggested to her as he sat on the edge of the bed in the inn, watching her put on the finishing touches in the mirror.

"Are you serious? It's a bikini." She gave him a _look_ via reflection. "Isn't this right up your alley?"

He found himself stammering, not certain how to explain to Edea that her skin - smooth and silky, with only the slightest hints of scars that betrayed how active a woman she truly was - didn't need to be bared on his behalf. He was sure she'd scoff at the idea, but it was his obsession with Dandy DeRosa's techniques that had led to his ill-thought decision.

"If you truly wish to do this, I won't stand in your way… though I confess I would prefer to see your legs in all their splendor in a more private - ow!" He couldn't quite mask the noise he made when she slapped him, and his face was red for an entirely different reason for the next hour or so as they staked out their prey.

Through it all, waiting for DeRosa to show up, Ringabel could not tear his eyes away from her skin. Her breasts were nice but modest, and he found he couldn't look at them for very long before his eyes naturally drifted away toward her hips and those legs. The stockings she wore only emphasized their loveliness, clinging to her thighs and digging in just enough to stay up… He whined a little in the back of his throat, causing Tiz to glance at him.

"Are you okay?" Tiz and Agnes both had been unable to look at Edea once she'd come out of the inn room, fully dressed (as it were), and even now the younger man's eyes were glued to a newspaper he'd found somewhere.

"I will be fine, Tiz. Thank you for your concern." He'd be fine as soon as Edea put on some proper clothes, he thought, and his eyes once again swept over her form.

Hours later, after the dust had settled and Fiore DeRosa lay dead at their feet, he knew just why he had been so unsettled by her exposure.

Edea looked so small in that bikini, so unsure and vulnerable. In the chill of the underground laboratory, she was under-dressed, and her arms wrapped around herself for warmth, goosebumps on her arms. Oh, how he longed to wrap his arms around her to help bring warmth back to her body, but instead, he stripped out of his jacket.

"Here. Just until we get to the inn," he said quietly, his hands firm but gentle as he wrapped it around her. Still warm from his own body, Edea didn't protest, but stuck her hands through the sleeves, though they were adorably large on her.

"Thanks," she said, and she even buttoned the top up to fully cover her torso, hiding the bikini top from view.

Ringabel stepped back to admire his handiwork and flushed, looking away and offering his hand to lead her back to the surface. While he couldn't see it, he hoped she was smiling when her fingers wrapped around his.

He just wished his jacket were long enough to cover her legs.


End file.
